Marching Out

"Mum, you know that us radio operators don't get out in the sun much, by the time I get off shift it's dark, still bloody hot though."

We got the where did we meet kinds of questions and George lied, he told his mother that we'd met in Leicestershire when he was in specialist training at Two-Two-Four Signals corps training camp and that I was the one that whipped him into shape physically.

"I hated her guts at the time but she was just doing her job, turning a spoilt, flabby, teenager into a fighting man...pity she failed with me, I'm still flabby but not a teenager anymore."

There was talk of why George hadn't ever been promoted, he blamed it on the fact that he didn't apply for front line service, he was in a rear position, a safe haven, a basically office bound job.

I'd told them that I had actually just left the army and that I had reached the rank of sergeant before leaving.

"So...you had to go on the front line then?"

"No, when I joined up women didn't go to the front line so they had to set up promotions more like civvy street, I had to do training courses, pass tests and then, when a vacancy came up, I'd apply just like any other job."

"So, if you were in England and George has been in Cyprus since he finished his training, how did the two of you ever meet?" Betty was wracking her brains as to how we could have developed any kind of friendship when we worked two thousand miles apart.

"Well, when I needed to practice Morse code for one of my training courses, George was one of the few signallers that would spare the time to help me to practice and build up my speed. It came as a total shock when we bumped into each other at the railway station, George recognised me on the platform, he'd had nightmares about me since his specialist training...I didn't recognise him at all, he was just one of thousands of men that I'd tried to whip into shape over the years. We had five or six hours to chat and get to know each other properly."

"What are you doing in Glasgow?"

"I'm here for the pop concert..." I could have told the truth but that would have been very convoluted, the whole mother leaving home when I was young and never seeing her again, the aunty that I remembered living in Glasgow and that I was going to start my search for my mother by first trying to find my mother's sister if she was still alive. If I knew my auntie's name at least or her address I may not have sounded quite so crazy, "...I'm not even really into pop festivals but when I finished in the army I just threw a dart at a copy of what's on around the country supplement in the Sunday papers."

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"And the dart stuck in to the advert for the TRNSMT Pop festival here in Glasgow?"

"Well...to be honest...the dart went through six pages so I had the pick of twelve things but the hole was slap bang in the centre of the TRNSMT advert...well and a dog show in Penzance but I'm not really a dog person."

Betty stretched the dinner she was cooking for her and George's mother to feed the four of us and at eleven o'clock at night a taxi was called to take us home. We left by the back door again, the answer was simple, the road in front of Betty's house had been pedestrianised, it had been a residential street for many years but so many of the houses had been converted into bars and fast food outlets for the students studying and living at Glasgow's University which was just around the corner.

There was a moment of embarrassment when George told his mother that we'd only need the one bed making up. When George set off on 'Sexual Olympics part two' I tried to stop him, "Your mother will hear us!"

"Good, I had to put up with her doing my various 'Uncles' all through my childhood, it's her turn to listen to me fucking now!"

My second fuck...it should really have happened sixteen hours ago, shortly after that Kelly guy butted in and took George away from me but it was fucking marvellous. We stopped just short of swinging from the light fitting but had a good two hour long fuck and I cursed myself for waiting until I was twenty six years old before starting this wonderful new activity.

I woke early, I couldn't believe that George didn't, after nine years of waking up at six o'clock to the sound of a bugle I just couldn't sleep later, even when on holiday. I nudged him in the ribs twice to try and wake him up but it was fruitless so I dressed in my shorts and a T-shirt, slipped running shoes on my feet, I'd go for a run before breakfast. I didn't really need the exercise, I'm sure that what I'd done with George for two hours just four hours earlier would count as a ten mile run.

George's mum was in the kitchen reading her morning newspaper when I walked in. She insisted on making me a cup of tea and a slice of toast before I went out for my run. As I ate and drank I looked at the wall, there was a series of photographs making up a montage and in the middle of the wall was a picture of a house with a witch's hat roof over a bay window. I pointed at the picture, "That's an unusual house, where is that?"

"That's my sister Betty's house, you were there last night."

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I choked on my toast but hid it from George's mother.

"Is Betty's real name Elizabeth?"

"Yes dear, that's right."

"Can I ask you what George's father's name is, he told me he never met his father!"

"My husband's name was Victor Porter, I was six weeks pregnant when I left him and I was divorced before George was born, that's why George has my maiden name of Campbell."

I left the house without saying a word and started my run. How the hell was I going to break it to George that he was my brother! I was running at a pace that, if I'd have kept it up over my usual distance I would have broken the world record, the friction between my legs from new nylon running shorts and my panting for breath reminded me of my last two night's of sex with George. My legs suddenly went weak and my breathing had increased more than had been caused by my running. I fell against a tree to hold myself up and my mind raced ahead, 'I'll tell George he's my brother before he has to go back to his regiment...definitely tell him then...or perhaps I'll tell him if he ever asks me to marry him...perhaps...definitely before he wants me to have his baby!!!

8,562 Words.